Glory Fades
by Potato Chippy Weezer
Summary: His life was falling apart at the seams, but he couldn't be bothered to care. [threepart, Craig introspective]


**Title:** Glory Fades

**Rating: **R for offensive language and themes

**Characters: **Craig, Manny, Spinner, Ashley, etc.

**Pairings: **Past Craig/Manny, Past Craig/Ashley, Past Spinner/Paige

**Summary: **I can't. I can't do it, Joey. It's like I try, and I try, and I try…and I fail. And life wasn't meant for people who fail. I know that much  [three-part, Craig introspective]

**Disclaimer: **None of these characters belong to me. Don't sue.

**A/N: **I don't normally write Craig fics, but he's just so angst-worthy! I will admit that he is a little OOC, but I really do enjoy writing psychotic!Craig. Also, in this fic, Manny did have the baby. So, read on my friends, and enjoy!

**NOTE: **This takes place three years after Craig graduates, making him 21 years old.

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"I'm not selling my guitar."

Aggravated groan.

"Well then what are you going to do, Craig? It's not like you make any money from your band, and you don't have a job."

Long sigh.

"I know, I know. But, just…listen, I'll have the money by next week, I promise."

Angry scoff.

"I'm tired of you and your stupid promises. When Malaya was born, you promised you would help take care of her. What happened to that promise? You said we would be fine…I don't think we're fine, Craig."

Shuffling.

"Just give me a couple days, okay? The band has a show tomorrow, it should pay well. And if my landlady's feeling generous, I'll have the money by Friday."

Short pause.

"I really hope you do Craig. I really do. Because my parents can't take much more of this. One more fuck up from either one of us and they are kicking my ass to the curb. I'm not asking for that much. You might have to pay for child support, but I'm the one who looks after her. I'm the one who reads her favorite stories to her. I'm the one who takes her to preschool. I'm the one who tucks her in every goddamn night. Which is more than I can say for you."

Awkward silence.

"I know, Manny, and I appreciate everything you do for our daughter. And if I could take care of her, I would. But you know that she wouldn't be safe living where I live or being around the people I know."

Another long sigh.

"Yeah…I know. Listen, I have to go, Malaya just woke up. I guess I'll talk to you on Friday. Bye Craig."

Click.

"Manny?"

If one were to ask myself how I was doing today, I would've kept my answer short and sweet: Fuck off. It's not that I loathe people or anything, I'm just not in the best of moods.

I don't understand why every time I have a chat with Manny, the conversation always seems to shift into an argument about my financial problems. I mean, it's not my fault I'm dirt poor. Is it my fault rent costs so much these days? Is it my fault it's hard to find a job? Is it my fault that the band is having problems? No.

And she makes it sound like I don't care about Malaya. Of course I care about her, she's my fucking daughter. But to make me choose between her and my guitar is not a punishment I deserve. It's a Firebird V with mahogany wings and chrome plating for Christ's sake.

Before I can ponder the matter further, I hear three loud knocks on the door. God, I hate that door. It's brown. I fucking hate brown. It's so dull, it just screams blah. Plus, it's the color of the shit that comes out of my ass. Don't look at me like that, it's true! What, did you expect me to wax poetic?

I slam the portable phone back on the receiver and head to the door, ready to bite the head off of whoever's behind it. However, when I open the door, I bite my tongue. The band's gone through enough these past few months, they don't need another one of my tantrums.

When I look at my fellow band members, I realize we are a little more than just worse for wear. It seems like we have been ever since Marco left the band. I still can't believe he said his education was more important than the band. Asshole. It's when he left that I started worrying about us.

Spinner just hasn't been the same since graduation. I suppose with Paige breaking up with him and moving to New York, I couldn't really expect him to. He's been in a downward spiral ever since, caught in a whirlwind of drugs, alcohol, and women. But he'd never leave the band. We're all he's got left, and I know he'd fight tooth and nail for us to stay together.

Jimmy is the one I should be worrying about. Hell, he doesn't need the band. He's never needed the band. He has his own apartment and goes to a really nice college. He even has a job. His parents offered to pay for everything, but he insisted on living his own life. How…admirable of him. I'm counting down the days until he gets sick of it all and leaves the band. It's only a matter of time.

Then there's Brian…or is it Brandon? Who knows? Who really cares for that matter? He won't be sticking around for very long, they never do. We haven't found a bassist since Marco left. The longest anyone's lasted is two months. I can't say I blame any of them for quitting though, with me always spouting off my crazed rants and Spinner snorting cocaine every other hour, that's the only thing they could do to keep their sanity.

And then there's me. I'll be the first one to admit I'm just as, if not more, fucked up than Spinner. I live in a shit apartment, I have a daughter I can't financially take care of, and I can barely even provide for myself. It probably wouldn't be like this if I wasn't so damn stubborn. One phone call to Joey, and he'd give me whatever I needed. But after that argument we had three years ago, I refuse to even speak to him, let alone take any of his money. I refuse to be that pathetic.

"Hey guys," I say, opening the door wider so they could step in. "What's going on?"

"Jimmy found a bar downtown we could play at," Spinner informs me, slipping through the doorway, Jimmy and Whatever-His-Name-Is behind him. "We wanted to check with you before we called." I wave away the paper that Spinner is holding in my direction, not caring to look at it.

"Just call, we need any gig we can get," I say, plopping down on the couch, dust and other debris flying up when I do so. God, this place really is a shithole. I notice Whatever-His-Name-Is glancing at me uneasy.

"Are you sure, man? I mean, you should at least check out the place first," he tells me, sounding very nervous. "I've seen this place before, and it's a freak show in there."

"I'm a freak show," I mumble under my breath, not caring if he heard or not.

"It's not that bad, Brandon," Jimmy says, and I make a mental note to remember that the kid's name is Brandon. "And most of the druggies there are too doped up to even try anything funny." Jimmy, realizing what he just said, glances over at Spinner to see if he had been offended. Needless to say, Spinner doesn't seem to have even heard Jimmy. Probably too doped up.

"Craig, you got any vodka?" Spinner asks me. I nod my head yes.

"Yeah, in the cupboard under the sink," I tell him, but Brandon puts a hand on my shoulder before I can point it out.

"Um, I don't think he should. He already had two beers before he got here," Brandon whispers to me, apparently not wanting Spinner to hear, "and who knows what else. He probably smoked a shit load of weed, too."

"He's fine, man," I assure him. He stares at me.

"Are you crazy? I thought he was your friend!" he almost yells, his voice getting progressively louder. "You can't let him live like this, he'll die. If you were really his friend, you'd get him help." Now I'm angry.

"Don't you fucking tell me I'm not his real friend," I yell back, standing up and getting right in Brandon's face. "We've been through so much shit together, you can't even imagine how many times I've been there for him. Don't even begin to think you know me, because you don't know shit!" By this time, we've attracted Spinner's and Jimmy's attention. Jimmy gets between us, while Spinner just looks on.

"Whoa, guys-," Jimmy tries, but I push him out of the way.

"No, Jimmy. Did you hear what this asshole," I point to him, trying to emphasize my point, "said to me? Get the fuck off me, Jimmy, or do have to beat the shit out of you, too?"

"Come on-, " he tried once again, but this time is interrupted by Brandon.

"Just let him go, Jimmy. He can't do shit," Brandon says with a smug smile. "He doesn't have the brass." And so I punch him square in the face. My knuckle stings, but seeing that asshole's nose bleed makes it worth it. Brandon puts his hand up to his nose and stares at the blood left on it. He lifts his gaze up to me and snarls.

"You mother fucker!" he roars, ready to attack, but Jimmy holds him back. I smirk.

"What? You want more? How about I give you a bloody lip to match your bloody nose?" I laugh at my joke, even though it wasn't that funny. Jimmy sighs.

"Guys, just calm down," he says, still holding back Brandon.

"No!" Brandon cries, shoving Jimmy off of him. "Fuck this, I don't need this shit. Good luck finding another bassist, assholes." I didn't need to hear the door slam to know he was gone. Even though I'm not looking at him, I can see the aggravated look on Jimmy's face.

"Great job, Craig," he says sarcastically. He walks over to the door and looks back at me. "I'm going to go see if I can calm him down, save us the trouble of finding _another_ bassist." And the door slams shut once again. The thing is going to fall off its hinges soon. I look over at Spinner, who remained silent throughout this whole episode. He's just smiling.

"Wow," he says with a soft laugh. "You pack a mean punch there, Craig. I never would've guessed!" I stare at him and try to read whatever he's feeling.

I don't understand it. If he's not getting drunk, or getting stoned, or having sex, he's making a joke. He's never serious. He'll make the most serious situation into one big joke. Maybe he does need help. Maybe I am a bad friend.

"Spinner, do you think I'm a bad friend?" I ask him seriously and his grin widens. "Seriously, Spin. Do you think I'm a bad friend?"

And for a second, I think I see emotion flash across his face. For a second, I think I see the Spinner I knew in high school. For a second, I think he's finally going to open up. But as soon as that second passes, it's over. He's wearing that fake smile again.

"Oh yeah, Craig, you're a horrible friend. How dare you give me access to your alcohol cabinet. Shame on you!" he jokes, but I don't laugh. He doesn't care, though, and goes back to pouring his shot. I sigh and walk towards the kitchen. I get a glass from out of the dishwasher and place it in front of Spinner.

"Hit me," I mumble and he laughs. He fills up my glass one third of the way and I nod my thanks. I hold up my glass and Spinner follows suit.

"To…" I say, but realize I don't know what to toast to.

"To Brandon's bloody nose," Spinner offers and I laugh.

"To Brandon's bloody nose," I repeat and we hit our glasses together. I tilt my head backwards and knock it back. I wince as it burns my throat and slam my glass back on the counter. "God, I needed that." Spinner chuckles.

"Rough day already? It's only," he looks at his watch, "three o'clock."

"You have no idea," I mutter under my breath. I walk back over to the couch and take a seat. I put my head in my hands and sigh, hoping the vodka kicks in soon. I look up when I hear the door open to find Jimmy looking at me with a frown on his face.

"He's gone," Jimmy says while shaking his head. "He's gone Craig, because you had to go and piss him off. Why do you always have to do that, huh? Are you trying to push everyone away?" I shrug.

"He couldn't respect his betters," I say arrogantly. Jimmy scoffs.

"You're fucking delusional, Craig. How are we going to play without a bassist?" he asks.

"We can play without a bassist," I shrug again, pissing Jimmy off to no end. "We have songs with no bass leads, we can easily pull it off. We can play 'Remove Painting' and 'Unforgiven.' We can play 'Into Clarity', too, we just have to cut out the bass solo. And if we have to, we'll play a couple of covers." Jimmy closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh.

"It'll be a disaster, I know it." I laugh.

"Come on, Jim, don't be so pessimistic. We can do it," I look over to Spinner, whose still in the kitchen, "right, Spin?" He looks up upon hearing his name and shrugs.

"Uh, sure," he says and goes back to doing whatever he was doing. I realize he probably doesn't have a clue about what we're talking about, but I don't care.

"Just call the place, Jimmy," I tell him finally. "God knows I need the money." When I hear him sigh once again, I know he's giving in.

"Fine, I'll call the goddamn place, alright?" he throws up his hands. "Happy?"

"Very," I smile. Jimmy rolls his eyes and looks over to Spinner.

"Come on, Spin, we're leaving. I don't want you trying to go home by yourself when you're this wasted," he waves him over, and Spinner laughs, but complies.

"Bye Craig," Spinner waves and I wave back, before returning my head in my hands. I wait for the sound of the door slamming, but it never comes. I look up to see what's wrong to find Spinner and Jimmy staring at something outside the door.

"Guys? What's the matter?" Jimmy clears his throat.

"Uh, Craig? I think you better come here," he says softly. I walk over to the door and Spinner and Jimmy move out of the way so I can see. My eyes widen.

"Angela?" The girl before me smiles nervously.

"Hey, Craig."

I can't believe my eyes. It's been three years since I've seen her and she doesn't look any different. Sure, she's gotten taller and her hair's a little bit longer, but she's still the same Angie. She still has that sweet face and angelic smile. I can't stop staring, I don't know what else to do. Jimmy clears his throat again.

"Um, I think we better leave," he pulls Spinner out of the apartment and waves awkwardly. "Uh, bye Craig." I don't bother to wave back, I just continue to stare. After a few seconds, I finally find my voice.

"Angela, what…what're you doing here? Did Joey send you?" I have so many questions, but those are the only two I can manage to get out. She shakes her head.

"No, Daddy thinks I'm at Katie's," she looks down at her hands, almost embarrassed. "I came here on the bus."

"By yourself?" I ask angrily. She nods.

"I wanted to see you, Craig," she whispers. "Daddy says you got mad and won't talk to him. He didn't tell me why you got mad at him, though. Why are you mad, Craig? Why don't you come back home?" Before I can answer, I hear a noise from across the hall. I look over and find my neighbor, Larry, smiling at Angie psychotically. What a fucking weirdo.

"Get in here," I pull her into my apartment and lock the door just in case. She looks around and I can tell she's less than impressed, but at the moment, I couldn't give a shit. "How the fuck did you find me?" She winces, and I regret cursing at her.

"I-I looked it up in the phone book," she says softly. I'm about to go off on her, when I notice the terrified look on her face. God, make me feel like scum why don't you? I sigh.

"Listen, I'm sorry for cursing, I just," I wring my hands together, "…I never expected to see you again. I'm just a little surprised, I didn't mean to yell." She frowns.

"Are you mad at me, too?"

"No! No, I could never be mad at you, Ang," I smile at her, but she doesn't look reassured.

"Then how come you don't visit me, or call me?" she asks, making me feel even more guilty.

"It's…it's complicated, Angie. Me and Joey got in a fight, and we're not speaking."

"But Craig, it's been so long! Why can't you just come home?" she pleads, close to tears. And for a moment, I actually think of going back to Joey's. Life would be so different. I would probably be a lot happier.

No. No I can't. I have to get Angela out of here, before she actually convinces me to go back.

"Listen, Angela, you can't be here. It's too dangerous," I grab my coat from the closet and get my keys out of the drawer. "I'm going to drive you home, but you have to promise not to tell Joey you were here."

"B-but, Craig, please-," she begs, tears flowing freely now.

"Promise me, Angela," I say a bit harder this time. She looks down at her shoes and nods.

"I promise," she whispers. I sigh and kneel down so I'm at her height.

"Angie, I'm sorry I can't come back home. I really wish I could but," I shake my head, "I can't. I still love you though." She nods again, but doesn't look any happier. I stand up to my full height and open the door. "Alright, let's get you home."

The ride to Joey's was a silent one. I could tell Angela was still upset, but I didn't know what I could say to make her feel any better, so I didn't say anything at all. It only took twenty minutes to get there, and I was thankful for that, because just being in the car with Angie was making me feel guilty. I can't afford to feel guilty.

I pulled up to Joey's house and put the car in park. I unlocked the doors and looked over at my half sister, wondering if I should say something. She beat me to it.

"Please come in, Craig," she now has tears in her eyes. "Just come in and say hi. Please, Craig." I swallow the lump in my throat, refusing to cry.

"Bye, Angela. It was good seeing you," I look away from her, not trusting myself to look at her any longer and not cry. "Take care of yourself," I whisper and I can hear her sob. She waits a few moments before getting out of the car, slamming the door shut, and running up to her house, leaving me for good.

"Shit," I say to myself. "I have to get out of here."

And so I drive away. Away from Angela. Away from Joey. Away from my old life. I drove a couple of blocks before parking in front of an unfamiliar house. I bury my head in my hands. God, what've I done?

And this time, I can't stop the tears from falling.

TBC… 


End file.
